


Please Don't Go

by peacenik_jesus



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 19:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16980411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacenik_jesus/pseuds/peacenik_jesus
Summary: After Jesus is grievously injured by a new foe, it's a race against time to get him back to Hilltop in order to save his life.





	Please Don't Go

“We’re gonna get lost in here.” Aaron panted, sweat dripping into his eyes as he moved through the graveyard, supporting Eugene as he hobbled between himself and Jesus.

“Follow the wall,” Jesus replied, the exhaustion evident in his voice. “There has to be a gate somewhere.”

“I’ve got a really bad feeling about this,” Eugene grunted as he used the two men as a crutch.

“What? Don’t you trust me?” Jesus postured with a nervous laugh.

Neither man deigned him with a response, and they moved as quickly as possible to put distance between themselves and the walkers.

Jesus was elated when they finally found the gate, but his excitement quickly drained as he found it wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he pushed or how much dirt he tried to kick away at the bottom.

“Come on!!!” Aaron bellowed frantically, and Jesus knew he had to find another option of escape before it was too late.

They tried to heave Eugene over the wall, but their muscles were fatigued, and Eugene was simply too heavy and awkward. The snarling growls of the dead were growing closer, and both Aaron and Jesus could see the shapes emerging from the fog.

With a tremulous voice, Aaron confirmed their fears, “There’s no time.”

Trying to keep themselves between Eugene and the walkers, the two men unsheathed their weapons. With a look of valediction, they readied themselves to fight, waiting until the first of the herd was within striking range.

Kicking, slashing, stabbing, stomping, the men worked in tandem to take down the walkers, often aiding each other, until all that was heard was whispers in the mist.

It filled Aaron and Jesus with a sickeningly cold dread. They hadn’t fully believed what Eugene had told them in the barn, but now they knew he hadn’t been crazy. Nothing about these walkers was normal.

“Eugene. Eugene!”

All three men looked back at the gate to see Michonne, and Eugene ambled to it to help them open it. Aaron and Jesus kept guard, eyes trying to penetrate the white mist that hung like a curtain in the air. Jesus could feel his heart racing, adrenaline pumping through him, providing fuel for his overworked muscles.

When the gate was forced open enough to escape, Jesus turned to Aaron. “Get him out of here.”

Aaron looked at him as if he’d grown a second head, but Jesus knew they didn’t have time to argue. “Go!! I got this!”

Reluctantly, Aaron hurried towards the gate as the second wave of walkers encroached on them. Jesus eyed his targets, and launched his assault. One, two, three, four. Slice, stab, kick, cut. They went down without fail.

But there was too many of them. Jesus’ path to the gate was starting to close. “JESUS! COME ON!!” Aaron roared at him through the gate, the distress tangible.

Jesus moved towards the two walkers ambling towards the gate, taking down the first one with an upward slice of his sword. He drew the blade back, taking a lateral swing at the second one, but caught only empty air in the follow through. 

Before he could even process what had happened, a hand gripped his left shoulder, and a searing pain tore through his back, straight through to his chest. Excruciating didn’t even begin to describe the agony that stole his breath, and a strained groan forced its way from his throat.

“You are where you do not belong.” A voice whispered against his ear.

His head swam, the world twisting and turning like a kaleidoscope as he grew lightheaded; a sickening chill pervaded his body, seeming to stem from the blinding white hot pain in his chest. The adrenaline leaked out of him like ice melting on hot steel. The blade was ripped back out, equally as biting as when it had entered, and his legs gave out as his entire body went into shock. Unable to break his fall, his head slammed against the hard ground, rendering him unconscious. 

Aaron watched the scene unfold in horror, feeling the knife enter his own chest as it drove into Jesus, knocking the air from his lungs and stopping his heart. When Jesus fell, he gripped the gate to keep himself upright, his vocal chords shredding as he screamed in agony. “NOOOOO!!!”

Without care for the walkers still standing, Aaron pushed back through the gate, needing to get to Jesus, dread making his stomach roil as he feared he had just watched his lover die.

Another wave of walkers was already upon them, and Aaron stabbed his machete straight through the heart of the closest one as an arrow struck the skull of the one that had taken Jesus down. Daryl, Michonne, and the others that had arrived with her were at Aaron’s back, cutting the new wave down until once again, silence reigned.

Face wet with tears, Aaron stooped to pick up Jesus’ sword, hand trembling as he approached the still body. With nightmarish anxiety, he sank to his knees, looking for any sign that Jesus was still alive.

“I love you,” he whispered grievously. “Please…don’t go.”

Hesitantly, he slid his hand halfway under the chestpiece of Jesus’ armor, feeling the slick pool of blood. A weak, slow beat could be felt against his palm and he looked up at Daryl and Michonne. “He’s alive. We have to get him out of here now!”

Daryl was holding what appeared to be a mask made of flesh. He kicked the walker that had stabbed Jesus onto his back, and they saw that it had been a living man. Aaron stared, dumbfounded as his hand pressed against the wound in Jesus’ chest. The whispers began again, signalling another group of them were drawing near.

“Get back to horses.” Michonne ordered as she held her katana at the ready. “Now!”

Daryl dropped the mask, moving to help Aaron lift Jesus’ limp body as Magna and Yumiko headed out of the gate to help Eugene. Getting through the gate with Jesus wasted precious seconds and Michonne was ushering them to move faster. Aaron held Jesus tightly as they hurried him to the horses, his boots dragging the ground.

“You get on the horse,” Daryl told him in a gruff voice. “I’ll push ‘im up, you pull. Don’t wait for us, just go!”

Aaron didn’t respond. As much as he cared about the lives of his friends, Jesus would die if they didn’t get him back to Hilltop. He refused to have another lover die because he stayed to help his friends.

He mounted quickly, grabbing Jesus’ arm and hauling him up across his lap as Daryl lifted him. It was going to be an awkward ride, but so long as Jesus survived, it didn’t matter. He crushed the man’s torso against his chest, using his metal arm to secure him there as he took the reins in the other hand. Jesus’ head lulled forward against Aaron’s shoulder, his temple against Aaron’s neck. He could feel how clammy the man’s skin was and his heart lurched in his chest. Time was running out.

He kicked the horse hard in the sides, and the horse bolted forward.

Aaron held onto Jesus as tightly as he could, cringing as the man’s legs and head flopped around like a rag doll. A pained groan escaped from Jesus, signalling he was starting to regain consciousness, and Aaron held even tighter. “Stay with me. I’ve got you. I won’t lose you too.”

He grit his teeth as memories of Eric surfaced. He had never forgiven himself for letting Eric bleed out under that tree. Whether or not Eric’s wound could have even been treated was irrelevant. Aaron had essentially left his lover to die that day instead of ignoring Eric’s insistence that he go back to the fight. The same would not happen to Jesus. Not if he had any kind of say in the matter. If the man died in his arms on the ride back, Aaron half hoped he would reanimate and take him with him.

Shaking the gruesome thought from his head, he urged the horse to gallop faster despite the darkness that prevented him from seeing too far ahead. He had to trust that the horse could see well enough to be mindful of where it was running. Each beat of his heart felt like an infinite amount of time had passed. Jesus had gone still and silent again, and Aaron couldn’t feel his heartbeat through his metal arm or through the metal chest plate between them, nor could he tell if the man was still breathing.

“Stay with me,” he urged again. “Stay with me…”

The walls of Hilltop finally came into view, and Aaron shredded his vocal chords again as he started yelling for them to open the gates long before they could probably even hear him. The gates opened as the horse raced towards them, steam issuing from its nostrils from being worked so hard for such a long distance.

Siddiq and Enid were both rushing towards him and he pulled the horse to a stop, gravel flying as the horse dug his hooves in to slow himself. Aaron could feel the horses’ sides heaving as he carefully lowered Jesus down to Siddiq and Enid. “Stabbed,” his voice quavered, hoarse from screaming. “Hurry!”

Aaron noticed that Eduardo and Kal both rushed up to help carry Jesus into the medical center. His legs were shaking violently as he got down from the horse, bringing him down to a knee. Tara was on him in the next moment.

“What happened?! Where are the others?! Micho–”

“Not now, Tara,” he growled at her, forcing himself back to his feet and moving as quickly as he could in the wake of those who had carried Jesus away. She followed on his tail, sputtering, but he didn’t care. As he entered the room, he saw Jesus’ armor tossed on the floor, smeared with crimson. His eyes tore from it to the boots on the end of the gurney were Siddiq and Enid were frantically working.

Aaron moved so that he could be available to help if needed, but out of the way enough in case they didn’t need him. Jesus’ shirt had been cut away. Enid was pressing bandages against the wound in his chest as Siddiq had him rolled on his side so he could examine the wound on his back. The man was covered in blood on both sides of his body. He was pale, his breathing labored.

Siddiq seemed to notice Aaron for the first time. “Lay down, he needs blood now.”

There wasn’t any question of whose blood and Aaron was already pulling his sleeve up as one of the nurses in training pulled another gurney up for him to lay on, getting the supplies needed for the transfusion. Aaron watched Jesus as the needle was inserted into his vein and blood began to flow from him to the other man.

“Is he going to be okay?” Aaron couldn’t help but ask, seeing the tense look on Siddiq’s face.

“Too soon to tell.”

The honesty, while appreciated, was not what Aaron needed to hear. Siddiq told Enid they needed to make sure that the knife had only passed through muscle, which meant a more intensive procedure than Enid had ever done. They would have to wait until he’d been given enough blood for his body to be able to handle the surgery, so they packed the entry and exit point with gauze and covered him with a blanket to keep him warm.

Shortly after, the door swung open and Daryl helped Eugene hobble inside. Enid rushed to him, and together she and Daryl got him settled on a bed so she could take care of his knee. Once Eugene was under Enid’s care, the roughneck moved towards Aaron and Jesus, putting his hand on Aaron’s shoulder.

“He okay?”

“I don’t know.” Aaron’s voice shook and he forced his eyes away from Jesus to look up at Daryl. “Michonne and the others…?”

“We all made it back,” Daryl assured him. “Caught one of the sons of bitches, too. ‘Chonne and Tara are lockin’ her up in the cellar.”

“If you all hadn’t shown up when you did…”

“Just wish I’d gotten there sooner, man. I’m sorry.” Daryl looked between Aaron, Jesus and Eugene. “Y’all good? I’m gonna go talk to ‘Chonne and Rosita.”

Aaron nodded as Eugene gave his verbal affirmative, and Daryl swept out of the room. Siddiq was listening to Jesus’ heart and lungs when Eugene yelped from the other side of the room. The sickening look of pain on his face told Aaron that Enid had just reset his dislocated kneecap.

“His pulse is stronger,” Siddiq announced, looking at Aaron. “That’s a good sign. Heart and lungs sound good. I still want to make sure nothing vital was damaged, but this is a good indication.”

“Why is he still unconscious?”

“Blood loss, shock,” Siddiq answered as he continued to check Jesus’ vitals and test his pupil reaction with a pen light. “He should come around in a while. Hopefully after I get him stitched up.”

Though the other man was obviously joking, trying to ease Aaron’s concern, it didn’t get the desired laugh. Siddiq moved to Aaron, checking on him to make sure he wasn’t experiencing any adverse effects from the transfusion. “How do you feel?”

“Terrified,” Aaron replied automatically, even though he knew what Siddiq was referring to. “A little lightheaded, nauseous.”

“That’s normal,” Siddiq assured. “If it gets unbearable, tell me.”

Aaron shook his head, “I will give him every last drop of blood if I have to.”

“I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

Time crawled. Aaron could feel his heart beating in his head. The color had returned to Jesus’ face and he seemed to be breathing easier. After an hour passed, Siddiq checked him again and decided he was stable enough for a deeper inspection of the wound. “Think you can hang in there for another half an hour?”

Aaron gave a woozy nod. “Whatever he needs.”

Enid carried over a tray of instruments and Aaron watched as Siddiq removed the bloodied packing from the wound, before he picked up what looked like a really wicked pair of tongs. He could hear the squelching of blood, muscle, and flesh as the wound was spread open. Blood had always made Aaron queasy, even after being in this world for so long, but he forced himself to watch Siddiq poke around in Jesus’ chest.

“It looks good from this side. Mostly just ripped through the muscle.” After a few more minutes of inspection, he repacked the wound and they rolled him onto his side again. He spread the wound on Jesus’ back to begin the next assessment. “Looks like the blade struck the edge of his shoulder blade…chipped off a piece of the bone.”

A pair of tweezers were used to remove a visible section of bone, which was tossed in a discard pan. Aaron grimaced. “He won’t need that, will he?”

“Nah, he probably won’t even know the difference.” Siddiq poked around a little more.

Aaron felt like he was going to vomit, but he wasn’t sure if it was the blood transfusion or watching the doctor dig around in the other man’s back that was causing it. Finally, Siddiq finished, suturing the wound on Jesus’ back first before they cleaned the area and bandaged it, then they rolled him on his back once again, and did the same with the chest wound.

“He’s going to be okay,” Siddiq told Aaron as he and Enid cleaned Jesus up, wiping the blood off of him. Enid removed his boots and socks and helped Siddiq with his the pants and underwear. 

Even though Aaron had seen him undressed countless times, it felt wrong to watch him now, so he turned his head to give the man some dignity. They put him in a clean hospital gown, unhooked the transfusion line and needle, then transferred him into one of the empty beds, getting him as comfortable as they thought he could be, and covering him with several blankets.

Aaron tried to sit up, but almost blacked out, so he stayed on the gurney, closing his eyes against the spinning sensation. A cup was pressed into his hand and Enid was helping him to sit up enough to drink. Orange juice. Probably freshly squeezed that day.

Siddiq laid a hand on his shoulder. “You saved his life. Getting him here, and giving him the blood he needed…any longer and he wouldn’t have made it. Biggest concern now will be infection, but we’ll monitor that closely.”

A sigh of relief hollowed Aaron out and he laid back on the gurney. “Thank you. Both of you.”

“Lay there and rest,” Siddiq smiled softly. “I’ll go inform the others about our patient.”

Aaron watched Jesus from across the room, afraid to take his eyes off the other man for even one second. When Enid finally gave the OK for him to get up, he ignored her advice about getting something to eat and moved a chair next to Jesus’ bed before planting himself there. His hand slid under the pile of blankets and found Jesus’, bringing it on top of the covers to hold it. He was still slightly cold to the touch, so Aaron brought his hand up against his cheek, hoping to give him some warmth.

Enid inserted another line of fluids into the vein on Jesus’ other arm before she disappeared.

It was quiet now in the ward, almost deafeningly so after the last frantic few hours. Aaron felt completely sapped of all energy. His muscles felt like lead, he ached from head to toe, and exhaustion was pulling his eyelids down. He leaned over and rested his head against Jesus’ abdomen. The rhythmic rise and fall of his belly as he breathed started to lull Aaron to sleep.

The next thing he was aware of was the daylight streaming in through a nearby window. Jesus’ hand was nestled under the neckline of Aaron’s shirt, resting against his upper back. Aaron carefully extracted the hand, holding it gently as he sat up. Enid was changing the fluid bag and was smirking to herself.

“You guys are cute together.” She told him, meeting his eyes. “He woke up for a little while last night while you were sleeping. Begged me not to wake you up. He said to tell you ‘thank you’ if you woke up before him again.”

Aaron snorted softly. “As if he has to thank me… He’s okay?”

Enid nodded with a soft smile. “He’s okay. Now will you please go eat something? I promise, when he wakes up, I will come get you.”

Reluctantly, Aaron relented to the request, tucking Jesus’ hand under the covers to keep it warm. Every muscle in his body protested as he stood up and he groaned. “I’d kill for some Icy Hot right now.” Looking down at Jesus’ sleeping face, Aaron smoothed the flyaways of hair back and leaned down to kiss his forehead softly. With one more assurance from Enid, he left Jesus in her care, trusting that everything would be okay and that the nightmare was over.

Cold dread trickled down his spine as he left the unit. Jesus might have lived through the ordeal, but the nightmare was far from over. A new threat had presented itself, and the communities were going to have to come back together if they had any chance of defeating it.


End file.
